After lunch it was raining, but we set out anyway with umbrellas to do a little exploring. First up to the border, a very sleepy place with not one official in sight. Then down into town, also very sleepy with most businesses closed. We stopped in a couple of shops, and then went to a tea house: two tables, two women, all open to the street. The most delicious masala tea, with milk, cloves and cardemom (which also grows here), not too much sugar, and another conversation. They told us that there were several different population groups represented here, each with their own language. They said the reason it was so quiet was that most of the town’s business is from Darjeeling, and today there was a strike going on there, so few people were coming to town. The tea was 16 Nepali rupees, but we didn’t catch why they specified “Nepali” till we were buying something in the next store. If we had had Indian rupees the store keeper (who came out to see us along with his wife and two daughters, and weren’t half as impressed with the baby swallows nesting in their store’s eves as we were) could have made change, but he didn’t have Nepali rupees. That’s how Indian this town is.
Now we are in the dining room, intermittently watching the World Cup with the hotel staff. Intermittently because the electricity comes and goes. It’s still rainy and rather cold, a sleepy Saturday evening.
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